Page 75 of Fight For Me

“Hmm?” It occurs to me that the floaty feeling is an awful lot like falling asleep. He sighs, the sound content, and kisses the top of my head. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

“Hmm.”

He laughs. “Okay. Sleep now, Alex. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Night, Wyatt.”

If he answers, I don’t hear it.

I crash hard. I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly. I’m vaguely aware of the sensation of being suspended, moving through the air in strong arms. Then I’m surrounded by softness again, a blanket being pulled up over me, Wyatt’s lips on my forehead. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

I do.

* * *

I wakeup to bright light streaming into an unfamiliar room. It takes me a few moments to figure out where I am. Miami. The show. Then I remember Wyatt and I sit straight up in bed.

Holy shit. Did that actually happen? I blink around my room in confusion. There’s no sign of him. We’d been in his room, right? How did I get back here? And where the hell is Wyatt? Maybe it was all a massive hallucination. What if I actually took my strong sleeping pill last night and dreamed that whole thing? The thought makes my stomach clench.

Then I realize there’s soft music playing in my room. Soft piano music. I reach for my phone, finding it plugged in on the nightstand. Sure enough, my Love Dream playlist is playing on a continuous loop. Wyatt must have done that. A vague memory of him carrying me to my room finally registers. He’d tucked me into my bed and kissed my forehead. Then he’d turned on the music I told him helped me to sleep.

I’m about to send him a text when there’s a soft knock on my door. “Alex? You up girl?”

Everly. I look down to check I’m decent, nearly jumping out of my skin when I see that I’m in Wyatt’s shirt from the night before. Okay, so definitely not a hallucination.

Also probably not what I should be wearing in front of Everly first thing in the morning. Wyatt and I didn’t talk at all about what any of this means, but I’d bet my third of the clothing line that he’s not going to be ready to shout this from the rafters yet. Maybe not ever.

Another soft knock on my door. “One second,” I call, jumping out of the bed. I fumble for the buttons on the shirt then pull it off, shoving it under a pillow before grabbing my robe. I tie the belt as I walk to the door.

“Hey,” she says when I open it, wincing a little. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but we need to get moving.”

“You didn’t wake me,” I assure her.

She looks relieved. “Oh, good. I’d hoped you got a good’s night sleep since you were so tired when you left.”

My brain is moving slow and it takes me a few beats too long to realize what she’s talking about. I’d sent her a text from the ride share last night, telling her I was wiped and going home so she wouldn’t worry.

“Right,” I say, too quickly. “I mean, I did. Sleep that is.”

She gives me a strange look and I immediately start sweating. I’mterribleat keeping secrets. And keeping secrets from Everly is pretty much impossible. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I run my hands through my hair, trying to look as sleep rumpled as I can. Maybe she’ll just think I’m having trouble waking up. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Okay. Well, I’m gonna start coffee. We need to leave for the airport in an hour and a half.”

“Got it. I’ll jump in the shower.”

To my massive relief, she doesn’t question me anymore, which is a very good thing—I’m liable to shout “I had sex with Wyatt!” at the top of my lungs under the slightest bit of questioning.

After she’s gone, I grab my phone again and tap out a quick text to Wyatt.

Me:You up yet?

I wait a few minutes, wanting to talk to him before I face the rest of the family, but he doesn’t reply. Maybe he’s still asleep. I take the fastest shower of my life but there’s still no response waiting when I get out. I really need some coffee so I get dressed, pull my still-wet hair into a ponytail, and head out to the kitchen, crossing my fingers the others won’t be out there yet.

Luck is not on my side. I enter the kitchen to find all of them sitting around the dining table or perched on stools at the counter. There’s a chorus of mostly grumbledhellosthat make me think several of them are fighting hangovers. Of course my eyes go right to Wyatt, sitting between Will and Leo at the table. He smiles at me and then returns to his conversation.

I go to grab coffee, having zero idea what to make of that. It doesn’t feel like he’s avoiding me, not exactly. He didn’t refuse to make eye contact or anything. But his smile had been kind of vague. Polite. Not at all like the way we’d laughed and looked at each other last night.